


Unruhe

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [76]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:30:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf





	

She is aware it is a dream, but she can't quite bring herself out of it. She recognizes the darkened trailer, and she can feel the duct tape keeping her arms and legs pinned to the chair. She hears his footsteps and sees his white cover-alls. For whatever reason, she can't see his face, and she's grateful for that at least. Until she feels his hand on her forehead, holding it to the chair. She knows instinctively that the dream is going to end differently than the reality went. She knows Mulder is not about to break open the door. She tries to scream anyways, knowing that, in reality, he's in the room with her, but there is duct tape over her mouth. She sees only the bright, shiny tip of the ice pick as it nears her face. She stares at it until she can't focus on it anymore. And then she feels it. For better or for worse, she then becomes the ice pick. She feels herself slipping easily through flesh, bumping against bone and changing direction slightly. Feels nerves bending and breaking for her. Feels the soft welcoming of brain matter, and the pressure settling in around her. Suddenly she is being withdrawn, and she has the feeling of holding her breath, waiting to surface as if under water. Instead of the calm quiet of the ocean, however, she hears the sound of metal sliding through flesh. And then she is free, with the sound of a sword being withdrawn, and she is herself again, everything around her replaced with a piercing headache behind her left eye, and her own voice repeating the word, "Unruhe."

Scully opens her eyes, but doesn't move otherwise. She knows where she is, but her eyes search the ceiling, if only to make sure the headache from her dream doesn't remain. She notes that her hands, clasped loosely on her stomach, are sweaty. She wipes them on her thighs before sitting up.

"Bad dream?" comes Mulder's voice from across the room. He's sitting in the leather chair across from the couch, reading a file.

She takes a moment to realize her breathing is a little rapid, and forces herself to slow it. "Nope. Just kittens and rainbows and shit."

He nods and gives a chuckle. "Sugar and spice, and everything nice?"

Scully nods, closing her eyes hard for a moment to get the images of her dream out of her head. "Something like that. How long was I asleep?"

Mulder shrugs and checks his watch, "Almost two hours, I think." He doesn't seem too bothered as he keeps his attention partly on his file.

"Sorry about that," she says, glad the relative darkness of the room hides the flush of her cheeks. She doesn't bother telling him that was the longest she's slept at one time since their dealings with Gerry Schnauz only a few days before. She begins absently tidying the mess on the coffee table; the remains of their pizza, and their empty beer bottles.

"That's alright," he allows with a smile. He had seen the bags under her eyes when she arrived at his apartment earlier, and being prone to nightmares himself, he knew all too well that she probably hadn't slept much. "You really know how to party," he comments.

Scully chuckles, fishing around in Mulder's desk drawer for matches--the one thing she'd forgotten to bring. "Says the guy sitting there reading a case file on his birthday." She opens the fresh pack of birthday candles she picked up with the cake on her way over and sticks one blue one in the middle of the small, round cake. She lights the candle and waits for Mulder to come sit with her.

"You gonna sing to me, or what?"

She shakes her head, "I don't want to ruin your party."

Mulder chuckles, closes his eyes, and blows out the candle. As he reaches for the forks on the far end of the table, Scully takes the candle out of the cake and licks the icing off the bottom of it. "Now, I'm not gonna tell you what my wish was," he says as he hands her a fork. They forgo the formality of cutting slices and using plates for sharing it as it is. "But if I eat half of this cake and it doesn't go straight to my ass, you'll know dreams do come true."

"Amen to that," Scully manages around a mouthful of cake. She holds her empty fork up, and Mulder clinks his against it. "Happy birthday, Mulder."


End file.
